Starbase 72 was a wonder.  Wren had spent much time walking the various decks, hallways, and more as the Mackenzie was under repair.  She stood at the back of the Memorial Amphitheater in Quadrant A, remembering why it was there.  The loss of life in the Dominion War had left a deep wound in Starfleet, the Federation, and the Universe.  Ten thousand two hundred fifteen lives alone had been lost in the Minos Korva sector.  The complete casualty reports from the war were still hard to read.  It had been the most challenging thing anyone in Starfleet had faced.

A few people were walking around, and a few had taken seats on the benches facing the stage.  She found an isolated seat towards the front.  It was a quiet place.  United Federation of Planets flags hanging between the columns fluttered in the artificial breeze.  Walton wondered how they would memorialize this war.  Would Starfleet eventually recognize the sacrifices of the officers of the Fourth Fleet?  Would the dead be given the honor owed to them?  Would they be laid to sacred rest?

She sat back on the bench.  The reports from other Fourth Fleet captains had been hard to read.  The losses were striking.  From officers to crewmen to cadets to civilians…the numbers had become harder to accept week after week.  How would any of them be able to sit in the center chair with the weight of responsibility on their shoulders?  That fourth-rank pip was beautiful, but it was also heavy. She absentmindedly ran her fingers over her own.

They would get the Mackenzie back, eventually.  The crew would return to her and set out into the stars again.  Yet, she reflected, they would be different now.  The war had changed Peter Crawford and his generation.  This war had changed her and left its mark on her crew.  They would need to get to know each other again and share the scars they’d endured.

Walton walked around the Memorial Amphitheater, reading through the engraved names and quotes inscribed in remembrance.  The war had cost them. The payment remained a cruel price for the freedom of the universe.  A price they had willingly paid.  She stood at the entrance, taking one last look.  More people filtered in, looking for hope, reason, or anything to help in the face of the rebirth of the Dominion.  Others walked the corridors, ignorant of the reality.

Wren took a deep breath.  Duty called.  The future was uncertain, but it lay ahead expectantly.  She joined the masses and pushed forward.  She resolved to do just that. Walton whispered to herself, “Forward, Ever Forward.”  She pushed on and into the crowd, the future ahead.